


Rare and Beautiful

by ThatRavenclawBitch



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, RCIJ 2017, Rumbelle Christmas in July, The Dark Castle (Once Upon a Time)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 21:51:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11586909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatRavenclawBitch/pseuds/ThatRavenclawBitch
Summary: The girl in the tavern looked familiar, but she can't possibly be who Rumple thinks. Because Belle is long gone and the woman left behind shares nothing in common with her but her face.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BluebirdOfHapiness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BluebirdOfHapiness/gifts).



> My RCIJ gift for bluebirdofhapiness whose prompt was "Dark Castle: Lacey wearing lingerie". Well, the Dark Castle appears. And Lacey does wear lingerie. But otherwise I got very carried away.

The girl in the town looked familiar.

No, it wasn’t familiarity that made Rumplestiltskin do a double take. It was the feeling, settling deep in his gut, that he had found her, that Regina had lied, that the world was good once more.

It wasn’t familiarity. It was love, pure and strong, lancing through his heart and telling him that Belle was alive.

It was just a muddy little hamlet on the outskirts of nowhere, barely worthy of a name though they’d given it one anyway.

Pigdon.

Rumple never would have found himself in such a place if he hadn’t had business there. A local landowner had wanted to make a deal, but it had turned out to be beneath his notice. The man had nothing he wanted, nothing he could use. So he’d found his way to the rundown little tavern in the center of town to have a drink and a meal before heading home to the Dark Castle, so stark and lonely since the loss of his caretaker that he’d all but started avoiding it.

He’d been sitting at a table in the corner, the patrons of the dingy bar avoiding his gaze, when he spotted her. She was a tiny little thing. If he stood up she’d probably barely reach his shoulder and Rumplestiltskin had never been a tall man. The first thing that caught his eye was her hair, tumbling curls of chestnut and burnished copper that glowed in the low light of the tavern’s lanterns. It was a familiar color, a cherished color, one that still haunted his dreams.

And then she turned, her face emerging from shadow, and Rumplestiltskin’s breath caught in his chest, his heart stopped, he blinked repeatedly, trying to clear the image from his mind. It’s not as though he hadn’t dreamed of her before, hallucinated her in his every day life. There were times when he was certain he’d seen her, caught a whiff of her scent from around a corner in his castle. There were times when he made his way to the Great Hall and was certain he would see her there, lounging on a chaise and whiling away the day with her nose stuck in a book.

He was wrong of course, every time. Belle was dead. She was long gone. She was butchered by her own father and it was all his fault.

But this time, the image didn’t fade, no matter how he blinked and shook his head, trying to dispel the phantom.

Belle was before him, wandering around a dirty tavern with a smile on her lips, her hand trailing over the shoulders of the usual patrons as she delivered mugs of ale.

She was beautiful, of course she was. Her eyes were just as bright blue as he remembered; her cheeks flushed pink in the warmth of the tavern, her lithe figure on display in a low cut bodice. How had she ended up here, in some backwoods watering hole fall from her father’s castle and everything she knew?

The answer was clearly before him. That this wasn’t Belle at all. It’s a trick of the light, a twist of his addled mind, it’s the ale, it’s anything but true. Belle is dead. She’s been dead for months, and no matter how hard he searches he can never find her nor bring her home.

The girl turned again and he was struck by just how uncanny the resemblance was. He didn’t even need to squint, to tilt his head, to pretend. She is Belle’s twin.

It must be a trick. Someone had cast a glamour on a barmaid in an effort to drive him mad. He would suspect Regina capable of such a thing for no more reason that to toy with him.

Now that he knew the source of his torment, Rumple set about dismantling it. A quick twitch of his fingers and he could feel the magic coursing out of him, wrapping around the girl, dissolving any trickery. But when she turned toward him, her mouth forming a slight O at the phantom feel of his magic, it was still Belle’s face looking back at him.

She shook off the shiver of magic, heading to another table and depositing a round of drinks for the rowdy crowd there. One of the men at the table grabbed at the girl’s skirts and she slapped his hand away, her smile never faltering.

Rumplestiltskin couldn’t wrap his head around what was happening. Belle was dead. He looked for her. He saw her grave, plain as day. And even if Belle were still alive, she wouldn’t be here at a tavern in the middle of nowhere. She’d be home, with her father. She’d be off on an adventure. She’d have come back to him. She wouldn’t have disappeared to be a tavern wench.

Despite himself, Rumple can’t help but let himself believe that for once the universe has been kind to him, has brought him here on this night so he could find her again.

With that uncharacteristically optimistic thought in mind, he stood up and crossed the small room, stopping just behind her.

“Belle,” he said, his voice coming out croaky and hoarse.

The girl turned around, her breath hitching to find a strange looking man so close behind her.

“Excuse me?” she asked, stepping back from him. Her voice is as familiar as her face, light and musical with an accent he wouldn’t soon forget, one entirely out of place in this part of the Enchanted Forest.

Perhaps if she’d had a different voice, an accent more suited to the swampy area and the course tongues assailing him from the gathered natives, he’d accept that he was mistaken and leave. But she sounds like Belle.

“Belle,” he repeated, more fervently this time. “You’re real. You’re alive.”

The girl raised an eyebrow at him, bracing one hand against her hip.

“Come again?” she asked. “Who’s Belle?”

And just like that it was as though someone had let the air out of Rumple’s lungs. He sighed, taking a step away from her, feeling ancient and weary. Of course he’d been mistaken.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a moment, shaking his head. “You just remind me of someone. Someone I used to know.”

The girl rolled her eyes. “I always remind men of someone,” she said laughingly. “It’s how I make my tips.”

Rumplestiltskin just nodded, retreating back to the table he’d occupied all evening. He should leave, but he found himself entranced watching the girl – not Belle – as she worked. Her smile was brilliant as she flitted from table to table. On one occasion, a drunken man had pulled her down on to his lap, his hands straying to the ties on her bodice. Rumple had the immediate urge to protect her, to stop the vagrant from assaulting her, but before he could even stand the man had been slammed face first into the tabletop, the tiny girl’s elbow buried in the base of his neck, that brilliant smile never wavering. After a few choice words, she let the man up, sputtering through a mouth full of blood, his nose clearly shattered.

She could certainly take care of herself.

Before he knew it, the tavern was all but empty, just the staff, a few stragglers too far in their cups to be easily roused into leaving, and him. The barman gave a nod in his direction and the girl sighed, wiping her hands on her apron before heading Rumple’s way.

The girl had mostly avoided his corner of the pub all evening. He couldn’t fault her for that. He was off putting under the best of circumstances and he’d accosted her calling her by the wrong name. Now he’d spent the rest of the evening staring at her and despite his best efforts, he knew she’d caught him looking.

“Can I get you anything else?” she asked, glancing down at his half drunk flagon of ale. He’d barely touched it since it was last filled.

He was entranced by her face, so strikingly similar to Belle’s. It was impossible that this wasn’t her and yet there was no recognition in her eyes. It wasn’t a glamour, but perhaps it was something else. With a start, he realized he was staring again and had failed to answer her question.

“Look,” the girl said with a sigh, thunking down a pitcher on the rough-hewn table. “No one else will say anything because they’re all afraid of you, but you’ve sat here all evening, barely touching your drink, and putting off the people who would order something. You’re flat bad for business.”

He took a measured drink of his now warm ale as if to prove a point, grimacing at the flat taste.

“I’m taking my time, dearie,” he said with a trill. “I think you could appreciate that in a man.”

A smirk crossed her face and before he knew it, the girl had let out a loud guffaw. It was so different from Belle’s tinkling little laugh that it startled him. It was completely unexpected.

“You’re good,” she said shaking a finger at him before taking a seat on the bench opposite him and crossing her arms against the table. Rumple sat back, away from her. He hadn’t expected her to sit with him. He had expected her to run from the strange man staring at her with strange eyes.

“You’re not afraid of me,” he said wonderingly. It wasn’t a question.

The girl just shrugged. “You can’t be any worse than the usuals who come into this place stinking of pig shit and sweat. At least you look clean. That’s a nice change.”

There was only one other person who had shown such a lack of fear when faced with Rumplestiltskin. The same person whose face he now saw before him.

“Don’t you know who I am?” he asked with a flourish.

“You’re a sorcerer,” she said plainly. “The others, they, uh, they say you can do almost anything, grant any wish, for a price.”

“Ah,” he said, setting his flagon down on the worn table. “And what is it you’d like to deal for?”

She gave him a look, one that said she wasn’t playing his game.

“I don’t make deals,” she said. “I forge my own way.”

_No one decides my fate but me._

Rumple shook his head, dispelling old memories. They wouldn’t serve him here.

“A tavern serving girl has nothing to wish for?” he prompted. “I find that hard to believe.”

The girl just raised an eyebrow at him.

“A tavern serving girl is smart enough not to trust magic to solve her problems,” she countered. “All magic comes with a price.”

Rumple lost the grip on his flagon and it dropped to the table with a heavy thump, ale sloshing over the sides and trickling down onto the straw covered floor below.

“What did you say?” he asked in a rough whisper.

The girl’s eyes widened, glancing from the flagon to Rumple and back.

“Magic comes with a price,” she said again. “Everyone knows that.”

Rumple’s heartbeat slowed in his chest. It didn’t mean anything. It didn’t mean she remembered. It didn’t even mean she was really Belle.

“You’d be surprised at how many people ignore that sage advice,” he said finally, clearing his throat.

 “Well, not me,” she said confidently.

“Well, forget magic,” he countered. “If you could have anything, free of price, what would it be?”

She looked pensive for a moment, tapping a finger against her full bottom lip, before answering.

“To leave this place and never look back,” she said finally. “But that requires a fair bit of gold I don’t have at the moment. So here I am.”

“Well perhaps they didn’t tell you all the stories, dearie,” he said, leaning in conspiratorially. “But I, um, _make_ gold.”

The girl’s eyes widened. “Are you offering me some?” she said gamely.

“Oh, no,” Rumple disagreed. “I don’t give anything away for free.”

“There’s that price,” she said with a smile, one so familiar and so dear to him. One he thought he’d never see again.

“What’s your name?” he blurted out. She hadn’t responded to Belle, but he had to know for sure. Perhaps she’d simply taken a memory potion and erased him from her mind. He’d given such a thing to Snow White not long ago.

She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Why should I give a strange sorcerer my name?” she asked. “Who knows what you could do with that kind of information.”

“A deal then,” he proposed. “A name for a name.”

She eyed him critically. “I don’t make deals, remember?”

“But this is a harmless one,” he said with a shrug. “No price at all. Rumplestiltskin, at your service.”

He bowed at the waist, an awkward thing with the table between them, and the girl gave a snort.

“Call me Lacey,” she said after a moment. “Everyone else does.”

Rumple didn’t miss her odd phrasing, but he let it slide.

“Lacey,” he said with a nod, letting the name roll around his mouth. It didn’t fit her, not at all. There was magic in names, and even if he hadn’t noticed the cagey way she’d revealed the name, he’d know it was false. “A pleasure to meet you.”

A tavern girl with a false name bearing the face of his one true love. She was an enigma, a puzzle Rumplestiltskin had to solve. He was staring again.

She bit down on her lip, a slow smile crossing her face. The expression was so familiar, a sly look he’d seen on Belle’s face so many times before, usually right before she was about to tease him about something. His heart thumped in his chest, his palms suddenly inexplicably sweaty. This was Belle. Somehow, some way, she had survived. She was real. She had to be.

The only way he would know for sure is if he could get her back home, to the Dark Castle. If he could bring her to his laboratory he’d have everything he needed to discern just what the hell had happened to her, why she couldn’t remember him, and why she was here of all places.

“Come to my castle,” he pleaded suddenly, without warning.

Lacey sat back, her face suddenly wary.

“I don’t do that anymore,” she countered. “I’ll serve you your ale, but you’ll keep your hands to yourself. There’s no price on that.

His heart twisted at the look on her face, that such a beautiful creature had ever been forced to sell her body. He wouldn’t ask that of her.

With a concerted effort he slipped the mask of the dealmaker back in to place. He couldn’t afford to traipse around like a lovelorn fool.

“I’m not in the habit of paying for  _that_ , dearie,” he shot back. “I just find myself in need of a caretaker for my rather large estate. I can take you away from here, offer you adventure, a new life. Isn’t that what you want?”

Lacey leaned forward, crossing her arms against the table. “And what do you get in return?” she asked with an arch of one perfect brow. “A maid?”

He flinched at the term. Belle was his maid. Belle was his love. She might very well be Belle, and he would never require her to clean for him again.

“Not a maid,” he countered. “A…companion.”

“A companion for your rather large estate?” Lacey asked, giving him a once over. “Is that some kind of euphemism?”

Rumplestiltskin was rendered momentarily speechless. She was certainly more straightforward than his Belle.

Lacey snorted out a laugh. “How large are we talking?” she asked, cocking her head, her eyes dropping as though she could see anything through the wooden table and Rumple’s trousers. Even so he felt exposed, his hands moving to clasp in his lap.

“Would you like to come with me or not,” he asked impatiently.

“I’ve already said I don’t make deals.”

“It’s not a deal, dearie,” he said with a flourish. “It’s a job offer.”

Lacey stared at him for a long moment, her intelligent blue eyes calculating.

 “Alright then,” she agreed. “But I want a contract in writing. I want to read it over before I agree to anything.”

Rumple looked up at her in surprise.

“How do you know how to read?”

Lacey narrowed her eyes at him. “What kind of question is that?”

“In my experience, tavern girls stuck in shit towns in the middle of nowhere aren’t known for their literacy.”

Lacey looked uncomfortable for a moment. “Well I know how to read,” she spat. “Let’s leave it at that, shall we?”

Rumplestiltskin shrugged. Curiouser and curiouser. Lacey could read, her accent hailed from far away, she looked so damn much like Belle.

Once he got her home he could be certain.

With that in mind, he swept his hand through the air in a graceful arc, a roll of parchment appearing within.

“Here you are, dearie,” he said with a smirk, brandishing the contract at her. “If you agree to my terms, sign your name at the bottom.”

Lacey took the parchment from his outstretched hand, taking an infuriatingly long time to read through it. Eventually she reached the end, giving a slight nod.

“And you’ll adhere to the terms of our deal?” she asked him.

Rumple nodded. “You have my word. I never break a deal.”

Lacey nodded again, before picking up the feather quill Rumple had summoned and signing her name at the bottom of the page.

Rumple quickly rolled up the parchment, disappearing it into thin air.

“I hope your employer didn’t require two weeks notice,” he said with a toothy grin. “Shall we?”

He stood and offered her his hand. With a grin, Lacey took it. A tingle ran up Rumple’s spine at his first contact with the girl, her tiny hand fitting in to his so perfectly.

A moment later they had disappeared from the tavern in a swirl of purple smoke leaving nothing but a few gold coins in their wake.


	2. Chapter 2

They landed in the Great Hall of the Dark Castle and Lacey stepped away from Rumple with a gasp.

“Did we just travel by magic?” she asked, her breath coming out in pants.

“Of course,” Rumple said nonchalantly. “It would take days to get here by carriage and I can assure you it wouldn’t be pleasant.”

Lacey chuckled, turning to take in her surroundings.

“Nice place,” she said. He had the feeling she was trying to appear cooler than she felt. He was certain she’d never seen such a grand place in all her life, or rather what she remembered of it, and he could tell she was eager to look around. At the same time, she was attempting to look thoroughly unimpressed.

“Yes it is,” he agreed. “Tea?”

He motioned toward the long dining table where a tea set had appeared and Lacey turned to take it in.

“In the middle of the night?” she asked. “Is it even still night? All your windows are closed.”

He’d let down the drapes after Belle had died. It seemed only fitting to cast himself back into darkness now that his light had been extinguished.

“It’s the same time it was when we left Pigdon.”

Lacey shook her head. “Fine,” she agreed. “Not like I’ve got anything better to do.”

Rumple poured them each a cup before leaning back against the table and watching the girl.

“Good tea,” she said after a sip. “Might be helped along by something a little stronger though.”

With a flick of his fingers, Rumple summoned a bottle of whiskey adding a splash to her tea.

“That’s better,” Lacey cooed, tossing back the hot tea as if it were a shot of liquor. She set the teacup back down on the tray and resumed her wandering of the hall. Rumple’s heart stuttered to a stop when she stopped directly before the pedestal bearing a familiar teacup.

“What’s this?” she asked, nodding to the chipped cup.

Rumple stood up, crossing the room to stand next to Lacey. Perhaps this was it, perhaps all Belle needed to return to him was a memory, something clear and meaningful that she could connect to. He had a myriad of precious objects in his castle and the cup was the first thing she’d gravitated to. That had to mean something.

“Pick it up,” he urged.

Lacey gave him a dubious look before picking up the cup, cradling the delicate china between her palms. Her thumb swept over the chip in the rim and Rumple held his breath.

“It’s just a teacup,” she said at last.

The breath left Rumple’s chest in a huff.

“That is one of my most treasured possessions,” he said, pointing down at the cup.

“Why?” she asked with a shrug, turning the cup in her hands. “It’s damaged.”

“So it is.”

“So why don’t you get rid of it?” she asked, dangling the cup on one finger by its handle.

“You don’t discard of things simply because they’re a little chipped,” he said, snapping the cup up from her precarious grip and setting it a safe distance away on the dining table.

Lacey snorted a laugh. “You’re the type who never throws anything away aren’t you?”

She cast an eye around at the glass front cabinets filled with precious artifacts, the pedestals covered in knick knacks and gave him a choice eyebrow.

“Don’t you have anything sentimental in your possession?” he needled in reply. “Anything to remind you of your past, of another life?”

Lacey stiffened for a moment before turning toward the nearest pedestal, running her hands over The Golden Fleece itself.

“No,” she said. “I didn’t bring a bag with me here, did I? And what would I bring with me anyway? Pig shit?”

“You weren’t always a tavern girl in a town full of pig shit,” Rumple countered. “Where is that accent from?”

Lacey spun around, her eyes flashing for a moment before she schooled her expression.

“The same place I’m from,” she said simply.

“And where exactly is that?” he persisted.

“My hometown,” she replied coyly.

Rumple barely refrained from rolling his eyes. If she didn’t want to tell him, he wouldn’t push the subject. He would find out all of Lacey’s secrets soon enough.

“So where’s my room?” she asked. “If I’m to take care of this rather large estate of yours I’d better get a bed.”

He led her upstairs and for a moment toyed with the idea of giving her Belle’s room. Something felt wrong about that though, even if she was Belle. Perhaps being in her own room would jog her memory, but on the off chance that he was truly mistaken he’d have given away one tenuous line he still had connecting him to Belle’s memory. He couldn’t risk that.

So instead he skirted past Belle’s room, a room he hadn’t set foot in since the news of her death, and led Lacey into the bedroom next door.

A quick flourish of magic had the place clean before he even opened the door. There were fresh sheets on the four poster bed already turned down invitingly, a roaring fire in the fireplace, and a large copper tub before it already filled with hot water and rose petals.

“For the pig shit,” Rumple quipped, nodding toward the tub.

Lacey bit her lip, barely containing the smile that threatened to break forth. She darted in to the room, making a beeline for the tub and trailing a hand through the steaming water.

“That smells amazing,” she said leaning back and beginning to unlace the stays at the front of her bodice. She was down to just her linen shift and petticoat before Rumplestiltskin realized he should probably leave.

“Well are you going to stand there and watch or can I have some privacy?” she asked, that ever-present smirk lingering on her lips.

Rumple could feel his cheeks heating and he turned quickly back toward the doorway.

“Enjoy what’s left of your evening,” he called over his shoulder. “We’ll go over your duties in the morning.”

He almost thought he heard her laugh as he all but ran from the room.

* * *

Once he’d bid goodnight to Lacey, Rumple headed up to his workroom to plan. Glamours weren’t permanent, though they sometimes required the caster to dissolve them. Even so, after a few days they would begin to fade naturally. He hadn’t detected a glamour on the girl, but he’d know for sure within the week if her resemblance to Belle began to fade.

The next obvious choice was a memory potion of some kind. Memories could be triggered through the right stimulus. He’d already tried the chipped cup and it hadn’t worked, but perhaps he could charm an item that had once belonged to Belle. He had a copy of “Her Handsome Hero” in the library he’d given her. He knew it was her very favorite book and reminded her of her mother. If that couldn’t trigger something, nothing would.

Finally, there was always the risk that it was a curse. Any curse could be broken with true love. Unfortunately that was something Rumplestiltskin wasn’t entirely sure he had with Belle anymore, let alone the veritable stranger, Lacey. And even if he was certain, he couldn’t risk breaking his own curse, not now when he was so close to the fruition of all his plans.

He whipped up a quick detection spell to identify any magic about her and then set off to the library to find Belle’s favorite book. After charming it to jog Belle’s memories, he called it a night. If neither of his plans panned out, he could try more extensive tests. For those he would need hair and blood samples from Lacey however, and he wasn’t quite sure how to go about getting those at the moment.

The next morning, Rumple went down to the Great Hall when the sun was just breaching the horizon. He summoned an extra chair to the dining table and placed the book to the side of Lacey’s new chair. The firelight played across the gold embossing on the cover and he stared at it as he waited.

An hour or so later there was a scuffing out in the hall heralding Lacey’s arrival before the doors to the Great Hall blew open to admit her.

“The doors open by themselves,” she said, jutting her thumb over her shoulder. “This place is wild!”

Rumple waved a hand over the dining table and a full breakfast spread appeared: Eggs and bacon and sausages, scones and toast and jam. Lacey sat down at the table grabbing for the nearest serving dish and starting to fill her plate.

Rumple poured himself a cup of tea and sat back to watch her, waiting for her to notice the book at her elbow.

“Thanks for breakfast,” Lacey said before tucking in. Rumple gave a noncommittal grunt. He watched as Lacey veritably shoveled food into her mouth and wondered when the last time she’d had a full meal was. If she was in desperate enough circumstances to think running away with the Dark One was a good idea, she must have been saving every bit of gold she could get her hands on in order to leave. Rumple cast his eyes down, feeling like he was intruding on something private. He’d certainly known the kind of hunger Lacey was displaying in his days.

When she’d halfway cleared her plate, Lacey finally looked up at Rumplestiltskin, a slight blush tinting her cheeks.

“Sorry,” she said, wiping her mouth on her napkin. “Didn’t you want to talk about what I’m actually supposed to do here? You mentioned something about earning gold.”

“Yes,” Rumple said with a nod. He set his teacup down, leaning forward on his elbows. In truth he hadn’t given much thought to what Lacey could actually do for him. He knew he didn’t want another maid. He’d made a promise to himself the day he set Belle free that if she ever came back to him, he’d never make her do another ounce of housework.

“I need a travel companion,” he improvised. Someone to attend me on deals, make arrangements before I visit a kingdom, and be my eyes and ears in places I’m far too conspicuous for.”

Lacey took another bite of egg, looking pensive.

“So you want me to travel with you and be your spy,” she summarized.

Rumple shrugged. “If you’d like to call yourself my spy I certainly won’t stop you.”

There was a subtle poetry in it. He’d accused Belle of being Regina’s spy. It was entirely possible the girl before him was exactly that, using his dead love’s face to get close to him and weaken him. And yet he was entirely ready to share his secrets with her, take her on as his own accomplice.

“How do you know I’d be any good at that?” Lacey asked, raising an eyebrow. “I could be awful at being your eyes and ears.”

Rumple snorted. “With the way you look, dearie?” he said, casting an appraising eye over her form. Even still clothed in her tavern dress she was a vision to behold. “I think you could probably get information out of a stone.”

Lacey sat back in her seat, a wide smile on her face. “Oh, so you have noticed?” she exclaimed. “All that talk about not paying for it in the tavern last night I wondered if you were…functional.”

Rumplestiltskin choked on his tea.

“I may not look like a man, but believe me, dear, I am one in that regard.”

Lacey looked smug for a moment. “Good,” she uttered, before turning back to her breakfast. “So where are we going first?”

“I don’t have any trips planned for the next few days so feel free to get acquainted with the castle and I’ll tell you when you’re needed,” he said. “In the meantime, there’s a full library, well stocked with novels like that one.”

He gestured to “Her Handsome Hero” and Lacey glanced down at it, as if noticing it for the first time.

“I’m not much of a reader,” she said simply, far more interested in buttering her toast than the book Belle had toted around with her for half her life.

“Oh,” Rumple said, masking the disappointment in his voice through years of practice. “Well if you change your mind, I’ve heard that one is quite good.”

Lacey bit in to her toast, picking the book up with her other hand.

“Her Handsome Hero,” she read off through a mouthful of bread. “Sounds kind of corny.”

“I hear it’s about compassion and sacrifice,” Rumple said, the words surfacing from his memory clear as if Belle had just whispered them into his ear.

Lacey snorted, tossing the book back down on the table.

“As someone who has never been accused of being compassionate or self-sacrificing, I think I’ll give it a pass.”

Rumple cast his eyes down, not trusting himself to look at her for a moment. She sat there wearing the face of the woman he loved, but that was where the similarity ended it seemed. She was no more Belle than he was.

With the book failing to jog her memory, Rumple proceeded to the next step of his plan.

“Tea?” he offered.

Lacey glanced up from her breakfast and gave him a quick nod.

A little slight of hand allowed him to pour a bit of the detection spell into her cup along with the tea before he handed it over to her.

Lacey took a long sip, giving a contented little sigh before setting it down and returning to her sausages.

After ingesting the detection spell Rumple should have been able to see any magic at work in her, the smoky tendrils curling beneath her skin. But Lacey’s skin remained pale and unblemished. There was no magic at all that he could see.

“What?” Lacey asked after a moment as he continued to stare at her critically. “Do I have something on my face?”

“No,” he said, standing quickly.

There must be something darker at work here, something insidious that couldn’t be detected through typical means. But who would have the power to do something like that? Regina certainly wasn’t powerful enough. He had more work to do.

“Enjoy the rest of your day,” he said before fleeing back up to his workroom.

 


	3. Chapter 3

A week later, Lacey came down to breakfast looking just as much like Belle as she had on the night he’d first spotted her. It wasn’t a glamour and for that Rumple was glad. It didn’t solve the mystery surrounding Lacey though and he found himself growing more impatient as time went on.

“We’re going on a trip,” he said suddenly that afternoon, finding her making lunch in the kitchen. “To the Eastern Isles. I have business to attend to there.”

“Really?” Lacey said, dropping the bread she buttering. “We’re actually going somewhere? I was beginning to think you were a hermit.”

Rumple clasped his hands together, looking down at them. He’d been a horrible host so far, spending most of his days trying out different potions and concoctions to figure out just what was going on with Lacey. He’d snuck more magic in to her tea than was decent. Luckily she hadn’t had any adverse effects. He wasn’t entirely sure what Lacey had been doing with her spare time, but he’d noticed that the liquor cabinet was missing a few bottles. He only hoped Lacey didn’t do permanent damage to Belle’s liver, if indeed she was Belle.

He also noticed that “Her Handsome Hero” had disappeared from the dining table shortly after he’d placed it there that first morning. When he’d asked Lacey about it she’d merely shrugged and said she was bored, and that he’d given her leave to read it anyway.

She’d picked the cup out of all of his treasures. She’d taken Belle’s book. These were signs, he could feel it no matter that logic and reason told him he was grasping at straws.

Belle had always wanted to travel, to see the world. So he would take Lacey on a trip he should have taken Belle on. The Eastern Isles were the most beautiful part of the Enchanted Forest that he’d ever seen all lush grass the color of emeralds, sparkling white sand beaches, crystal blue water so clear that you could see straight to the bottom, and home to a forest which was the only remaining natural habitat for unicorns.

The prince of the Eastern Isles had contacted him weeks ago asking for help ridding the islands of poachers, but Rumple had felt it beneath his notice. He’d intervene before the unicorns became critically endangered; their horns were far too precious to let them die out completely. But now it gave him the perfect excuse to take Lacey somewhere Belle would have loved. Perhaps it would appeal to something deep within her that magic couldn’t touch.

“What’s in the Eastern Isles?” she asked, excitement making her blue eyes bright.

“Unicorns,” he responded with a shrug. “Dull creatures but exceedingly valuable for their magical properties. If I rid the island of a poacher, their prince has promised me a bushel of unicorn hair, very useful in wand making.”

Lacey crossed her arms, leaning against the kitchen table.

“What do you need me for? How am I supposed to be your spy on something like that?”

“Easy enough,” he said with a smile. “When we get to the Eastern Isles, you’ll go into a tavern, get friendly with the locals, and find out the exact identity of our poacher. I’ll kill him and then we’ll be on our way.”

Lacey’s eyes widened. “Kill him?”

Rumple shrugged. “Poaching is an offense punishable by death. He has stolen the Prince’s property and there’s a bounty on his head.”

“You’d really kill him?” she asked. “A man who has done nothing to you?”

Rumple paused for a moment, his heart climbing its way up his throat. Belle would never stand for it. She would be convinced the poacher had some noble reason for his crime and even if he didn’t she would plead for leniency. She was always looking for the best and she wouldn’t want Rumple to tarnish his own soul through violence.

“Unicorns are pure creatures and yet they are murdered for their horns,” he said by way of answer.

The corner of Lacey’s lip twitched up in a smile. “What are we waiting for then?”

Rumple looked confused for a moment, his heart sinking that she wasn’t going to try to talk him out of it.

“Alright,” he agreed. He took her by the elbow and with a wave of his hand the Dark Castle fell from around them, the capital city of the Eastern Isles taking its place.

Lacey gasped for breath once they arrived and Rumple thunked her on the back.

“Welcome to Alivale,” he said motioning at the gleaming white city walls surrounding them. “The capital city of the Eastern Isles, the jewel of the kingdom.”

Due to the distance of the Eastern Isles it was almost dusk here despite being early afternoon back at the Dark Castle. They had landed in the center of the city marketplace. The stalls and shops were all closing up for the night, merchants trying to make last minute sales and customers rushing to and fro trying to wrap up their days’ purchases. There was a bard standing in the courtyard of a large Inn on one end of the marketplace singing a song about a Bear and a Maiden Fair. The sound of his lute echoed throughout the square even over the bustle of the city. The whole place was crowded and alive. No one had even glanced their way despite appearing in a cloud of magic.

Lacey chuckled, turning in a circle to take in the sights. “I’ve never seen a city before,” she said, her voice wavering slightly. “There are more people here than I’ve even seen in my life.”

Rumple stowed away the tiny nugget of information. Lacey had been less than forthcoming about her past over the last week.

“Come,” he said, taking her hand and leading her toward the Inn where the bard was singing. “It’s time to work your magic.”

Lacey bit her lip, looking nervous as they were jostled through the crowd.

“What do I do?” she asked.

“Be your charming self,” Rumple said. “Order a drink, strike up a conversation, get them in their cups enough and then ask where you might purchase a unicorn horn around these parts.”

Lacey rolled her eyes. “Oh yes, that’s not conspicuous at all.”

She pulled up short before Rumple could open the door to the inn.

“Hold up,” she said, reaching down to the laces at the front of her bodice and starting to untie them.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice coming out squeakier than he’d ever own up to.

Lacey gave him a withering look.

“What you asked,” she said. “If you want information, I’m gonna have to hoist the girls up a bit.”

Rumplestiltskin just blinked at her.

“My tits, Rumplestiltskin.” she clarified.

Rumple had thought her bodice low enough for their needs, but when Lacey finished relacing herself it was practically obscene.

“Alright,” she sighed, placing her hands on her hips. “Let’s do this.”

She strutted in to the inn, her head held high and made a beeline for the large bar. There was already a gaggle of revelers in for the evening and the windows were thrown open to let in the bard’s song from outside.

Rumple settled himself at a table in the corner, pulling his hood up to hide his face. He planned to sit back and see how Lacey did. If anything went south, he’d be there to bail her out. Tomorrow he could show her the wonders of the Eastern Isles after he took care of the poacher.

He watched as Lacey flitted about the dining room of the inn, laughing and talking. She shared an ale with two hunters who had her in stitches. Next she played cards with a man with an eye patch and seemingly took him for all he was worth. Finally she talked to a serving girl for a full half hour though he wasn’t sure what kind of information she could possibly have. He rather thought Lacey was just enjoying a night out.

She was leaning against the bar, still talking the serving girl’s ear off, when one of the hunters from earlier approached them. He leaned in close to Lacey, whispering something in her ear. She turned toward him, replying curtly, before turning back to her conversation.

That was when things took a turn for the worse.

The hunter grabbed Lacey’s arm spinning her back to face him, cornering her with the bar at her back.

“No,” he heard Lacey say loudly from across the bar. The man was either too drunk or too stupid to listen to her because a moment later he had grabbed Lacey by the skirt, hoisting it up and grabbing at her undergarments. Lacey slapped him hard against the cheek but it didn’t seem a deterrent.

Rumplestiltskin didn’t waste another minute, leaping up from his table and crossing the bar in two quick strides. The hunter towered over him, at least half a foot taller, but Rumple merely tapped him on the shoulder.

“Nah ah, dearie,” he crooned. “I believe I heard the lady say ‘no’.”

The big man turned to Rumple giving him a snort. “She ain’t no lady.”

Rumplestiltskin flipped his hood back, his smile turning sinister. The hunter barely had a moment to recognize his folly before a cloud of purple magic encircled, dissipating to leave nothing but a cockroach where the man had once stood.

There were screams about the dining room at the blatant show of magic and the patrons of the bar rushed for the exits. Lacey just stood her ground, her eyes never leaving Rumple’s face.

The cockroach darted off under the bar.

“You turned him into a bug,” Lacey said, her chest heaving. “He was here one moment and gone the next.”

“Yes,” Rumple said. He wondered if he should have reigned himself in. He didn’t want to terrify Lacey. But the man had had his big meaty hands all over her. If he hadn’t done something, she could have been seriously hurt.

Lacey licked her lips, her cheeks flushed and her eyes still unblinking. And that’s when Rumple realized. It wasn’t fear in her eyes, not at all. It was arousal.

“Did you find anything useful?” he asked, slightly uncomfortable at the way Lacey was looking at him. She was beautiful. As beautiful as Belle and that’s why this would never be.

The bar was all but empty around them. They should leave now that his cover was blown. News was sure to spread far and wide that a sorcerer was in Alivale.

“You’re a man who takes what he wants,” Lacey said. “You could have taken the information you needed from anyone in here. Why use me?”

“Less messy,” Rumple quipped.

Lacey bit back a grin, her hand trailing down the neckline of her dress, barely caressing her own soft skin. Rumple’s eyes couldn’t help but follow the motion.

“You’re a man who takes what he wants,” she repeated, her voice low and sultry. “And I know you want me. I’ve seen the way you look at me. I could feel you watching me all night. I think you just get off on it.”

“I’m not a man,” he growled at her through clenched teeth. He wasn’t sure when she had moved, but Lacey was now far too close looking up at him with those impossibly blue eyes.

“You are in the ways that count,” she purred against his ear. Lacey’s hand stroked down his chest and he could feel every one of her fingertips even through the silk and brocade of his vest. She reached down to the front of his trousers and gave him a little squeeze through his leather. Rumple’s knees nearly buckled.

“Don’t do that,” he cut across her.

“Do what?” she asked, her bottom lip sticking out in a pout, not bothering to remove her hand.

“Try to distract me,” he said, gripping her wrist and wrenching it away. “It won’t work.”

Lacey’s pout gave way to a giggle and for the first time he wondered if she was quite sane.

“His name is Fiero Montaigne,” she said, stepping back. “He has an entire operation smuggling the horns out through the south port. You can find him there.”

Rumplestiltskin was taken aback.

“Sally the serving girl used to have a relationship with Fiero’s number 2 Anthony,” she explained at his incredulous look. “Apparently he’s one for pillow talk. And apparently I’m pretty good at this.”

Rumple nodded, accepting her words as truth. The serving girl had been more important than he realized.

“Thank you,” he stated.

“No problem.”

He pressed a coin purse into her hand for her trouble.

“Get yourself a room for the night,” he commanded. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“You’re going without me?” she asked, outraged. “I’m the one who found out where he was. I should get to go.”

“No,” he said simply. “It’s too dangerous.”

And then he poofed away before Lacey could say another word.

* * *

The poacher was right where Lacey said he would be and it was a simple enough thing to grab him and have him admitting to the whole deal.

Rumplestiltskin had him in a magic chokehold, watching him struggle for breath, his feet swinging through the air erratically several inches off the ground. He could let him die here, drop his corpse off to the prince and collect his reward. But something needled at him. Lacey had tried to distract him from the information she collected. She could have done so simply because she was turned on. Or she could have been using the weapons in her arsenal to get what she wanted.

She didn’t want him to kill Fiero Montaigne. Perhaps there was some Belle in her after all.

Rumple released the man, watching him fall in a crumpled heap on the dock, gasping for breath. A wave of his hand had the man bound and gagged and another deposited him on the prince’s doorstep. The end result was the same. The man would die for his crimes. But it hadn’t been at his hand.

Rumple shook his head, turning back toward the city center. He was going soft.

* * *

 

Rumple collected Lacey at the inn the next morning and took her down to the beach outside the city, just to see how she would react.

Lacey took to the experience with childish delight, kicking off her shoes and running through the waves crashing upon the sandy shore. She squealed as the water lapped at her skirts, the fabric darkening with its drink. She twirled, her arms outstretched, head back and enjoying the sunlight on her face.

Rumple watched with a faintly bemused smile. It was everything he’d hoped for her.

Eventually Lacey came back from the surf, collapsing in the sand next to Rumple, pink cheeked and out of breath.

“The water feels amazing,” she said. “You don’t want to come in?”

Rumple looked pointedly at his boots and the laces that went up above his knees.

Lacey sighed, flopping back on the sand.

“You could magic your boots off if you really wanted.”

“Then the only explanation is that I don’t want to,” he countered.

“Fine,” Lacey sighed. “It’s too nice a day to deal with you being sour.”

Rumple placed his hand against his heart in mock affront. But Lacey wasn’t even looking at him, her eyes closed, face turned in to the sun.

She looked peaceful and happy, just as Belle should always look. And despite all evidence to the contrary, there was a seed of Belle in her.

“You didn’t want me to kill that man last night,” he accused. “Why?”

Lacey cracked an eye open to look at him.

“He hadn’t done anything to you,” she said with a shrug. “Let the person he wronged do him in. You had nothing to do with it.”

“An odd sense of justice from a tavern girl.”

Lacey glared at him, no small feat with one eye still closed. “I wasn’t always a tavern girl, you know,” she said, sitting up.

“I know,” he said breathlessly. “You were much more than that.”

Lacey blushed, maintaining eye contact until she finally turned to look out across the water. Seagulls were circling, cawing at something further down the beach and the sound of their squawking along with the crashing of waves and the wind whipping by them, rustling the tall grass to their backs appealed to some inner sense of calm within Rumple. For a moment, he was almost happy.

“It’s beautiful here,” Lacey said. “Thank you for showing me.”

Rumplestiltskin shrugged, whatever spell had been between them effectively broken. “You did your job well.”

Lacey let out another contented sigh and then stood up, wiping the sand from her skirts.

“I’m ready to go home.”

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

After three weeks, Rumplestiltskin still couldn’t detect any magic about Lacey. There was no curse, no potion at work. She was simply a girl who bore an identical resemblance to his lost love and, on occasion, reflected her personality as well. Or perhaps he’d gone so mad with grief that his mind had imprinted Belle’s visage on someone who only bore a passing resemblance to her. Perhaps this was all his fault.

Whatever the case, she wasn’t Belle. The day he realized that it felt like losing Belle all over again. He locked himself in his own bedroom and spent the evening tearing apart every piece of furniture within reach. He hadn’t even realized how much he’d allowed himself to hope until that hope was taken from him.

When he was done and his room was in tatters, he took a deep breath and left, locking the door behind him. He’d deal with the clean up later. For now, he had to see Lacey, to let her go. He’d give her enough gold to go wherever she wanted to go and set up a new life, but he couldn’t keep her here, a phantom of the woman he loved who would never quite be the one he wanted.

He knocked on Lacey’s bedroom door, for once not sparing a glance to the room next door. He was glad now that he’d given Lacey her own room. Belle’s room would stay cloistered, preserved exactly as she’d left it.

“Come in,” came Lacey’s voice from inside. Rumple shut his eyes for a moment. She still sounded so much like Belle. After composing himself, he pushed open the door to find Lacey curled up in the armchair by the fire. She had a shawl wrapped around her shoulders, her hair down and spilling across her back, and “Her Handsome Hero” perched in her lap.

The scene was so reminiscent of Belle it nearly took his breath away, and strengthened his resolve at the same time. He couldn’t keep this woman with him just because she reminded him of Belle. It was wrong in so many ways.

“Enjoying the book?” he asked, motioning toward her lap.

Lacey shrugged. “I’m about halfway through. Not as sappy as I thought it would be, but a decided lack of the kind of salacious scenes I like in a novel.”

“Ah,” Rumple said, fiddling with his hands.

Lacey raised her eyebrows at him. “Is there something you needed or did you just want to ask me about my book?”

“Yes,” Rumple was quick to reply, moving further in to the room. “I wanted to tell you that I’ve no further need of your services. I’ll compensate you well for the help you’ve given so far and give you a generous severance package.”

Lacey closed the book, tossing it on to the side table next to her chair.

“You’re firing me?” she exclaimed. “What the hell did I do?”

“Nothing,” Rumple assured her. “Despite stealing all my liquor, you’ve been a fine employee.”

“Then why are you telling me to leave?” she asked, standing from her chair defiantly.

“Because your services are no longer needed. You’ll get all the gold you need, Lacey.”

“Well what if I don’t want to go?” Lacey said, crossing her arms against her chest.

Rumple blinked. He hadn’t expected her to refuse. He’d expected her to take the gold and run.

“Why would you want to do that?”

Lacey shrugged, turning away from him and back toward her open window and the endless expanse of stars beyond.

“You’re the most interesting thing that’s ever happened to me,” she said. “I figure if I stick by you I’ll not only get gold but adventure as well. I’ve seen more of the world in the past few weeks than the rest of my memories put together.”

“I’ll give you enough gold to see the world on your own,” he pointed out.

Lacey glanced over her shoulder, giving him a wry smile. “But I don’t have magic, do I?” she said. “Hard to adjust back to mundanity when you’ve travelled a thousand miles in the space of a heartbeat, when you’ve seen a man turned in to an insect before your very eyes, when you’ve always got a steaming hot bath without ever having to lift a pail of water.”

“Magic can do much,” Rumple agreed. “But as you know it comes with a price.”

Lacey raised her eyebrows. “And what is my price for your magic?” she asked, walking toward him. “So far you’ve given most of it for free.”

“You helped me on…”

“A deal you could have done on your own,” she finished his sentence. “Don’t say my services are no longer needed because they were never needed and you brought me here anyway.”

Rumplestiltskin bristled that he’d been found out so easily, that she’d apparently known all along.

“Why do you think I brought you here then?” he asked.

Lacey smiled, not one of her smirks, but a genuine smile, her dimples on full display.

“You were lonely,” she said confidently. “And I remind you of someone who made you less lonely for a time.”

 Rumple couldn’t help but nod. Lacey’s smile just widened.

“You’ve been lonely for a long time haven’t you?” she asked, inching ever closer. “How old are you, exactly? I’ve never really known.”

“Oh I’ve been around for centuries,” he said. “I don’t _quite_ look my age.”

“Centuries,” she repeated, her eyes alight. “That’s a long time to be alone.”

“I wasn’t always,” he said. “There’ve been…moments.

Lacey wrapped her arms around his neck and Rumple wasn’t quite sure when she’d gotten close enough to do that.

“Could you, uh, keep me young?” she asked, looking up at him from beneath her dark lashes. “That way you’d never have to be alone again.”

“Yeah,” he found himself agreeing.

He could keep her young, by his side, even feeding his darker urges for all eternity. There was nothing to keep him from having everything he wanted. Belle made him a better man, but Belle was gone and with her any good left in him. Lacey was pressed against his chest, her fingers dancing lightly across the back of his neck. She was so close he could feel her warm breath against his face, smell the intoxicating scent of her.

What he’d had with Belle was rare and beautiful and over before it truly began. He could never get it back. And maybe this would be common and ugly and leave him feeling unfathomably empty, but he didn’t care anymore that she wasn’t Belle. He just didn’t want to be alone.

Lacey was almost on her tiptoes, her face coming within inches of his. He could lean forward and kiss her, for the first time, for the last time, it didn’t matter.

He let his hands reach for her waist, pulling her against him and capturing her mouth with his own.

Lacey moaned against his lips, hers parting to welcome his tongue to twine with hers. There was no shudder of magic, nothing pulling at the edges of his curse trying to break it apart. This was not true love. It was something else entirely.

“I want you,” she murmured against his mouth, the words shooting straight down Rumple’s spine.

“You want my gold and my magic,” he shot back. He was under no illusions Lacey wanted anything else. It simply didn’t matter anymore.

“That too,” she said with a smirk. “I want it all.”

She could be his mistress, the dark coin flip to Belle, his broken heart rebelled at the idea but his heart didn’t rule his body at the moment.

He grabbed at Lacey’s skirts, the fabric rough in his hands. He’d never given her fine clothes or anything to replace the dress she’d come with him in. It was time to change that.

“You need something better than that old homespun, dearie,” he said. He took a step back from Lacey, holding his hands at her waist for a moment and looking her up and down.

Lacey’s lips were swollen, her chest heaving. “What do you suggest?”

A simple snap of his fingers transformed her simple brown bodice and russet colored wool skirts into a cream silk bustier overlaid in matching lace. The front laced up with a satin ribbon, the same pale blue color as Lacey’s eyes. Silk stockings covered her legs, held up by garters made of the same pale blue ribbon over tiny cream drawers. A cream diaphanous robe covered her shoulders, the fabric so thin and light it revealed more than it covered.

Rumplestiltskin sucked in a breath as he looked over his handiwork. It was the exact sort of thing he imaged Belle would wear on their wedding night on those fanciful nights he would allow himself to think of such a thing. Back when he still daydreamed that she’d storm back in to his castle, telling him he was a fool for rejecting her love. Back when he imagined he would marry her and make her mistress of this castle in name as well as deed. Back before he knew she had died alone, in pain, thinking he’d forsaken her.

Lacey looked down at her body, laughing lightly.

“So this is what you like?” she asked, raising an eyebrow and sauntering toward him. “The virginal sacrifice to the beast?

The robe slipped from one shoulder, baring even more of her creamy décolletage, skin soft as silk that he wanted to run his tongue over.

With that in mind, he took her shoulders in his hands, turning her away from him. His grey-green skin stood out stark against her pale flesh like corruption feasting on perfection. His hands skimmed down to cup her breasts through the bustier, his lips descending on her neck, tasting the skin he so desperately craved.

“Sorry to break it to you,” Lacey gasped. “But I’m not that innocent.”

“I’m counting on it,” Rumple growled against her shoulder.

There was something morbid about clothing his new mistress in the garments meant for his dead true love, but Rumplestiltskin was darkness itself. Belle would never wear such a thing. He was done pretending she could come back.

Lacey wasn’t Belle. It hurt to admit, but it was freeing in a way. He didn’t have to pretend anymore. He didn’t have to hold back.

His hands slid over her shoulders and down her arms until he could lace his fingers with hers. Lacey’s breath had quickened, gooseflesh erupting along her arms as his lips still mouthed at her neck. His hands strayed to her waist, working their way up the length of the bustier until they could cup her breasts. Lacey let out a sigh, her head rolling back to lean against his shoulder.

“I was wondering what took you so long,” she said, her eyes shut tight as he plucked at her nipples through the silk and lace. “I’ve been waiting for you to come to me every night since I’ve been here.”

“I thought you didn’t do that for money anymore,” Rumple countered, biting at the place where her neck met her shoulder and relishing the twitch of her hips that answered it.

“I don’t,” she said. “I’d fuck you for free.”

Rumple seized the back of her silky hair pulling her head further back until he could capture her mouth.

“Such a dirty mouth for such a pretty girl,” he moaned against her lips.

Lacey just arched her back, pushing her backside against the front of his trousers. He couldn’t hide the effect she was having on him and Lacey wiggled against the hard length of him.

“I think you like it.”

Rumple chuckled darkly as his hands worked down between her legs, through the light fabric of her underwear. She was so hot even through that small barrier. Rumple rubbed at her with one long finger and was gratified by Lacey twitching against him, her hips incapable of staying still.

“Yes,” she groaned, leaning her head back against his shoulder once more. “Touch me, Rumplestiltskin.”

He couldn’t help but comply with her wishes, pulling at her underwear until it ripped in half falling from about her legs. He parted her folds with his fingers, stroking her lightly, not enough to give her what she wanted.

“Please,” she said, her voice frustrated. She rotated her hips trying to get him exactly where she wanted him.

Finally Rumple relented, seeking out her pearl with his thumb as he let one finger slide into her. She was so wet already, enough that he added a second finger, pumping in to her as his thumb brushed along her clit. Lacey clenched around his fingers, breaking apart, her mouth falling open with a breathless cry.

He held her against his chest as she came down from her high, her breathing returning to normal. Then he leaned close, whispering against her ear.

“Get on the bed,” he ordered.

Lacey smirked at him, letting her robe fall from her shoulders as she sauntered over to the bed, bending over it to give him a show before climbing up on all fours. He had a perfect view of her backside and when she spread her legs ever so slightly, a glimpse of the pink perfection between her thighs.

“You know, since I lost an article of clothing I think it’s only fair you do the same,” Lacey said over her shoulder.

Rumple snapped his fingers and his vest disappeared leaving him in his silk shirtsleeves and leather breeches. Lacey rolled her eyes.

“I was hoping for a bit more than that.

Rumple grinned at her, reaching down to unlace his breeches and Lacey bit her lip.

“That’s more like it.”

She arched her back as Rumple approached, sliding his hands down her back and over her ass. He gave her a quick little smack and Lacey squealed, falling forward across the bed with a giggle.

She rolled on to her back, looking up at him with a smile.

“So what do you want me to take off next?” she asked.

“The corset,” Rumple said. “Leave the stockings.”

Lacey winked at him before slowly pulling at the length of blue ribbon lacing her bustier. Every move was precise, teasing, and eventually Rumple had enough. He sprang forward, wrenching the laces from her hands and pulling them through with one firm tug. The bustier fell open and Lacey tossed it away, lying back against the pillows completely nude but for her silk stockings.

“Better?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at the avid look on Rumple’s face.

“Much,” he agreed.

Lacey’s breasts were perfection, just large enough to fill his hand her nipples dusky pink peaks begging for his mouth’s attention. Her taut stomach was rising and falling quickly with her excitement. The dark curls between her legs dewy with her anticipation and arousal. She was everything he’d ever wanted. And it was all a lie.

Rumple pushed the thought away, diverting his attention to something much more pleasant.

He bent his head to her chest, capturing one perfect nipple in his mouth and sucking. Lacey gasped, her hands coming up to card through his hair.

“Yes,” she moaned, her head falling back against the pillows.

Rumple used his fingers to pluck at her other breast and Lacey squirmed beneath him, that infectious laugh of hers bubbling up again.

Lacey clawed at his shirt and before he knew it she had worked it up over his head. He cast it aside, looking down at her and dreading her reaction to his naked body. But Lacey looked anything but disgusted.

“You shimmer,” she said wonderingly, reaching out to place one hand against his chest. “It’s pretty.”

Rumple snorted. “No one has ever called me ‘pretty’ dearie.”

Lacey pursed her lips at him. “Well now they have.”

She sat up, plucking at the rest of the laces on his breeches until she could pull his cock out, pumping him with her hand.

“This shimmers too,” she said, smirking. “If I lick it will I get glitter on my tongue?”

Rumple snorted a laugh, which was quickly silenced when Lacey did just that, licking along the length of him before sticking her tongue out. Then she shrugged and took him completely in her mouth.

“Fuck,” he groaned, gripping on to her hair. Lacey pulled off him with a pop, looking up at him smugly. He needed to be inside her before he lost his mind.

“Roll over,” he said. He couldn’t do this and look at Belle’s face.

Lacey complied, rolling over on to her stomach and lifting her hips in the air, giving her backside a little shake in his direction.

Rumple shook his head at her audacity before he entered her from behind, her body providing little resistance with how slick she was. Lacey gasped, her body tensing for a moment before she relaxed.

“Move,” she commanded, gripping on to the bed sheets. “Please I need to feel you.”

Rumple pulled back almost completely before slamming his hips back against hers. Lacey gasped again, a surprised laugh following.

“Oh that’s good,” she cooed.

Rumple thrust again. She felt amazing, better than he ever could have imagined. If he hadn’t had magical stamina he’d have come already just from the feel of her.

Lacey was panting with every thrust, arching her back and pushing her hips back against him. Rumple pulled her up until her back was flush against his chest, burying his head in her hair, breathing in the sweet scent of her. The new position changed the angle of his thrusts and he could feel Lacey shuddering against him. He wanted her to come with him inside her, wanted to feel her clench around his cock and milk him for all he was worth. He let his hand slide down her body, rubbing at her clit with every thrust of his hips.

Lacey reached back, lacing her hand through his hair as he continued to pump in to her. And then her hips froze, her back arching against him, her entire body shivering as she came apart. Her channel was gripping him like a vice and Rumple couldn’t hold back anymore. He let himself go, coming deep inside her before collapsing forward bonelessly and taking Lacey with him.

He rolled off of Lacey’s back quickly, pulling her into his side as they lay cooling together on her bed. She was quiet for a long time, and Rumple didn’t want to interrupt her thoughts. If she regretted this, she’d realize it soon enough. There was no need to rush her to that epiphany.

He wasn’t quite sure whether he regretted this or not himself.

“The woman,” she began after a several minutes, her head cradled on his chest as he pulled his fingers through her curls, separating them and finger combing them into submission. “The one I remind you of. Who was she?”

Rumple sighed, his hand stilling in her hair. This certainly wasn’t a topic he wanted to discuss at the moment.

“She was a brief flicker of light amid an ocean of darkness,” he said finally. “And now she’s gone.”

“You loved her?” she asked. “You can tell me the truth.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “Very much. And I lost her through no one’s fault but my own.”

Lacey propped herself up on her elbow, looking down at Rumple.

“Is having me here a blessing or a curse?”

Rumple shook his head lightly. “I’m not really sure.”

“Well,” she began, a line forming between her eyebrows as she concentrated on what she wanted to say next. “If you could bring her back in exchange for me, would you do it?”

And isn’t that what he’d been trying to do all these long weeks: to bring back Belle and lose Lacey forever? He liked Lacey, if he admitted it to himself. She was funny and smart and had darker edges than Belle. But she wasn’t Belle. He would always choose Belle.

“I’m afraid so,” he answered truthfully, his heart breaking just a little more at the admission.

Lacey nodded before lying back beside him, snuggling up next to him again.

“I’m glad to hear that,” she said, her hand coming up to play across his naked chest, her touch light and almost ticklish on his sensitive skin.

“You are?” he asked, surprised. He wouldn’t expect a woman to enjoy hearing that the man in her bed preferred another.

“Of course you silly man,” she said, turning her head into his shoulder. “You have me back.”

Rumple was suddenly wide awake, sitting up and dislodging Lacey from his side.

“What?” he demanded. “What did you say?”

Lacey sat up too, clutching the sheet to her chest, a sheepish smile crossing her face. And suddenly he realized, he wasn’t looking at Lacey any longer.

“Belle?” he said wonderingly, like that day in the tavern weeks ago when he'd first spotted her.

She nodded, her eyes bright with unshed tears.

“You brought me home, Rumple.”


End file.
